


Spark

by AceQueenKing



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Depression, F/F, Post-Canon for Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Canon for Suicide Squad, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: She sees her for the first time on the television, and knows, at an instant, what she is.A witch.The woman is a little younger than her, but her look is the same. Hunted, but still a huntress; she wears red and gleams, power and grace in her fingertips.





	Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VampirePaladin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampirePaladin/gifts).



> I meant to write this for you for crossovering, but I didn't wind up having time, so I'm glad I finally got to finish this for you. :D

When she closes her eyes, she can remember Enchantress; can feel all the scars that Enchantress' passing left behind. 

She does not remember everything; much of Enchantress’ powers remain a mystery to her.  Doctor June Moore, ostensibly one of the nation's most prestigious archeologists, spends her days locked in her office, eyes closed, _remembering_.

She makes sure the door is locked, closes her eyes and casts off what remains of her clothing. Finally free, she raises her arms, and tries, _tries_ – to bring her powers back.

“Enchantress,” she whispers; quiet, so Flagg won’t hear. He’s too happy to have her to have noticed how she’s changed, but he will.  Like so much else in her life, the color has gone out of him. He is dull to her, now. Without Enchantress at her side, she notices so much less, resents more. They won’t last.

She feels her senses go as far as they can; she can feel it, sometimes, when she tries her hardest; the little spark of what she once had, the power that seemed limitless in Enchantress’ mouth. She stays that way, hours at a time, trying, desperately, to summon the dead, and she finds, only once in a while, the smallest of sparks between her fingers.

Sooner or later, she will tire; sooner or later, Flagg will leave her; sooner or later, perhaps, Waller will fire her.

But until then, she does what she can to try to find a reason – any reason – to stay alive.

* * *

She finds it in a girl on the television.

It’s Flag that puts it on; he can see she is adrift, and he tries, so badly, to talk to her, to bring her back. He wants the girl he fell in love with, but she’s not there anymore, and they both know it.

She should talk to him, tell him to go, but she can’t quite find the words anymore, robbed of her voice. It’s a news program that’s come on, one that he hastily tries to change the channel on – he doesn’t like the news, doesn’t want her to feel stressed about anything other than getting better, she knows – and that’s when she sees her.

_A witch._

The girl is a little younger than her, but the look is the same. Hunted, but a hunter; she wears red and gleams, power and grace in her fingertips as she summons her inner goddess so effortlessly June feels tears at the edge of her eyes. 

“Leave it on,” she says, the first words she’s said to him all night.

He looks at her oddly, but obeys; when the news report ends on the girl, raining hell while saving the world, she looks it up on the phone and focuses on her hands, on mimicking her.

But still – only the barest spark comes. Flagg sees, but he does not ask. Not yet.

It’s just as well – she can’t explain it, even if she wanted to.

The girl on the video is a goddess; endless power beckons in her eyes. June misses it so much she wants to cry. 

She dreams of the red-clad woman, lips soft and sweet as power slides between their fingertips. 

* * *

Flagg leaves, as she knew he would. He kisses her on the cheek, wishes her well; he bears no fault, and she, no heartache. They have simply grown to want different things. He even takes her to the airport, puts her on a plane to the gleaming, white Stark tower. He has had to pull some strings to get her there, and she is thankful. He is a good friend.  She is there to interview Wanda – for that is her name, she knows now, _Wanda,_ the Scarlet Witch – allegedly; in truth, she is there for nothing as common as that. She wants, _needs_ – something different. Something _more_. Something she can’t put into words.

“Hello, Wanda,” she says; she’s dressed in coarse, normal clothing, a black dress and black pumps and nothing so glorious as what she once wore as Enchantress. She was a goddess once and nothing she can wear can even come close to capturing the glory of what she once had. She dresses as if she is in mourning. 

Wanda, too, wears darker colors; red and blacks. She turns her head at her and smiles. Polite. “Do I know you? Steve said you were here for an appointment but you feel so – _familiar_.”

She wants to tell her; wants to tell her everything. The idol she found, the deity she became. Wants to tell Wanda her story, but it’s too long and too complicated; written in a long-dead tongue, long since extinguished.

She holds out her hand and closes her eyes; the sparks come, meager though they are, but she hears Wanda gasp.

“You’re a _witch_ ,” she says, smiling. “Like me. I thought I – I thought I was the only one.”

“Yes,” June says, then – frowns. “I was.”

“Oh.” Wanda bites her lip. “How did – did you lose it?”  She can see trouble on the girls face, knows that she is worried about her own fate. She has seen the criticism on the news, the fear mongering. Enchantress has taught her that that itself is normal; mankind often fears what they do not understand.

And gods have always been the targets of pitchforks.

“I couldn’t control her.” June shrugs off the painful loss.  She cannot dwell on it. “But what she gave me, she changed me – and I remember. I didn’t think – I thought she was alone, that I was alone.”  
  
“So you sought me out,” she says; she figures things out, of course, understands her in a way perhaps no one can.

“Yes,” she says, her voice breathy. The goddess leans over, grabs her hand, and a spark passes through their fingertips, power moving through her aching fingers like the sweetest of drugs.

Oh yes, they understand one another.

“It’s nice,” Wanda says, her own voice a bit jagged; “to not feel alone.” She looks up abruptly, the beauty on her face almost alarming. June could love her, she thinks; love her like she loved Enchantress, once, even as she feared her.

She does not fear Wanda.

“Would you stay?” She asks.

June has nothing with her, nothing beyond her travel bag and a pair of sneakers, but she answers immediately.

“Of course.”

* * *

 They walk together, side by side. A goddess in red; an idol in green.

The powers come, little by little; it starts with a moment between them, passing energy back and forth between their fingers. June feels old muscles wake up, feels old connections reborn.  Within weeks, she is no longer Enchantress, but she is not entirely June. She is something different, something more. Within months, she can keep the power, use it. 

Wanda, too, is more at peace, she knows; before this, she had focused too often on the ragged guilt at her core. Wanda never did know her Goddess, not like June – her power was given not by a Goddess but by men clad in lab coats. But Wanda has known loss beyond this; she has known enough loss that her heart has laid open, drowning.   _Pietro_ , her twin, lost too young, and her celestial body knocked all the more out of sync without a twin to share her orbit.

No more.

June can never take that pain away entirely, can never take that pain and reduce it to nothing. They have both left chaos in their wake; left important people behind. But she can, in her own way, remind Wanda that she is not alone.

When Wanda kisses her, she feels like she is whole again; something more. They work with the Avengers sometimes; Suicide Squad, others. They are goddesses who hold no affinity to one place – no one, that is, beyond themselves. 

But together, they make the world better. They make one another better.

And together, perhaps,  their scars will completely heal.


End file.
